Harmony

Three hours later, the sun hugged the horizon, bathing the island in amethyst fire. Harmony stumbled along the path to the hotel, clutching the last drink she'd ordered before being told she could order water or soda for the rest of the evening but nothing else. She tried to take a sip but had to stop to get the straw between her lips, and when it reached her tongue, she frowned, knowing instantly the bartender had been stingy with the alcohol on this one.

"Thash rude," she hiccuped.

It was bad enough they cut her off when she'd been a perfectly respectable drunk at the bar, but to tamper with a drink she paid good money for... If she thought she could turn around without falling over, she would head back and give the woman a piece of her mind.

But getting this far had taken quite a lot of effort. She wasn't entirely certain she wanted to head inside yet, either. The idea of laying down while her head spun so viciously was enough to make her nearly vomit, and while eating something was probably the smartest choice, thinking about food also turned her stomach. The only thing that felt remotely good right now was the wind on her flushed cheeks.

She looked down the path, admiring the hotel. It was a grand, sprawling villa with rooms that opened completely to the outside, and many of the bigger suites, like hers, had infinity pools that overlooked the ocean, which you could see from nearly anywhere you stood.

The only exception was an area on the right side of the resort. It backed up to a lush jungle of palms and rubber trees, the spaces between them packed with ferns and moss and flowers as big as her head and in colors she'd never seen on a color wheel.

The Bewitching Isle's stunning beaches were the resort's biggest draw. White sand flecked with gold butted up against enchanted, glassy waters that shifted from traditional turquoise to palest pinks and luminous lavenders. Daytimes with cloudless azure skies as far as the eye could see, and nights of the deepest indigo skies pricked by diamond bright stars.

Harmony thought it as lovely as everyone else did, but it didn't call to her like the velvety green darkness of the jungle. There was something about its shadows and intoxicating perfumes that gave her a thrill. Perhaps it was the danger lurking beneath the beauty which spoke to her true nature, and right now, it seemed like a perfect place to explore until her buzz wore off.

The few people she passed nodded politely, but the closer she came to the jungle, the fewer people she saw until at last, she stood alone at its edge, peering into the darkness and listening hard for any concerning noises; however, besides the buzzing of insects punctuated every minute by bird call, she heard nothing that dissuaded her from her decision to investigate.

Thirty minutes later she deeply regretted her decision, but had become so turned around she was afraid to go forward or back in case she strayed further from civilization. Red welts covered her bare legs, some of them bleeding where she'd scratched too vigorously. Something sticky coated her left arm, and from the intense itching beneath the substance, there was no doubt she was allergic to it. Her hair stuck to her damp face in clumps, and every few seconds she had to blink to clear her vision. Even worse, she'd continued to sip on her drink as she walked, and not only did it have more alcohol than she thought, but the sickly sweet juices only made her thirst worse.

Sober Harmony would teleport herself back to her room, but that was always a terrible spell to attempt when you were anything less than focused. Magic was difficult when you were intoxicated, and even the tiny light she tried to create sparked and buzzed until it fizzled out like a cheap firework, leaving her with no choice but to find somewhere to sit until she could get herself home. And hopefully that place to sit would be free of insects or animals or plants that might kill her.

Plopping down next to a tree, she dropped her head back and exhaled. So much for the idea this place was meant for her because it was some metaphor for her soul. If anything, it made her wish to apologize to everyone she knew for being such a menace because if she learned anything tonight, it was that alluring beauty hiding the danger lost its allure quickly once she was in the middle of it.

Harmony scrubbed her face with both hands and was surprised to find her cheeks wet. When had she started crying? Surely, she wasn't crying–no, this was her body's reaction to something in this damned jungle. Some plant or creature stung her, or she rubbed something in her eye. Gods, she hoped the healers here were good. She would give her right arm for one of her mother's soothing bath bombs right now.

A stick snapped, and the forest went deathly silent. No buzzing. No chirping. Not even the rattle of a leaf.

Harmony bit down on her bottom lip to stop from calling out. The older residents of Black Brier bothered little with impoten culture, but she'd watched enough horror films to know she needed to stay silent. Rising on wobbling legs, she crept in the noise's direction, risking a spell to heighten her vision in the darkness and praying she didn't end up blind.

Either luck was with her or the adrenaline making her heart thunder in her chest had cleared her head enough to cast. Everything came into sharper focus, and she froze when she saw the tall figure of a man crouching in front of a fire.

His lowered head hid his face from her, but she found something familiar about him as he rubbed his hands together over the flame like he was cold, which was strange since it was well above ninety degrees even after sunset. Every so often he would flinch and then mutter, like he was having a conversation he didn't much care for.

"No," he suddenly shouted. Then, lowering his voice, he said, "Está en algún lugar de esta isla. Tienes que ser paciente."

Jemina tried to teach her Spanish frequently, but Harmony had never grasped more than a few phrases, none of them appropriate to use in polite company. She knew enough to know he said something about the island and having patience. And then he whispered something that made her blood turn cold.

"Malphas."

Reeling, she stepped back. Then slowly shifted her other foot backward, but that one tangled with the other. She fell, her arms waving comically around her, and she landed so hard the air whooshed out of her lungs, leaving her dazed.

"Shit, shit," she huffed. The man was no longer talking to himself, and when she sat up and looked through the bushes, he was gone. Only a silver tendril of smoke curling above the banked fire evidence anyone had been there.

Rolling to her knees, she stood and limped in the opposite direction. She didn't care if she walked to the wrong side of the island. Something skittered across the back of her neck. Shaking her head didn't dislodge it. She slapped a hand over the back of her neck, cringing at the thought of smashing it against her skin, but there was nothing.

However, as soon as she removed her hand, it started again, this time creeping toward the front, caressing the slender column of her throat like a lover–or someone preparing to choke her.

"St-stop," she commanded, casting as she threw her hand out. This time, the light she conjured blazed bright and true, bathing everything within a hundred yards in a brilliant blue-white glow. The moment she saw who was following her, she missed the ignorance of darkness, and then she screamed.